


With Every Step

by Dekka



Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020), 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020) RPF
Genre: Addiction recovery, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:08:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29551878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dekka/pseuds/Dekka
Summary: “Tk didn't come home,” Owen says, trying to keep his voice even, professional.Judd doesn't hesitate. “I can be over in ten minutes, Boss.”
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, Judd Ryder & TK Strand, Owen Strand & TK Strand
Comments: 3
Kudos: 187





	With Every Step

Out of all the uncertainties in life, one thing is always constant: Owen knows his kid. He’s been there for every heartbreak and every milestone and even all the worst parts in between and still, there’s so much to parenting that he just feels he can't get right. Like, love, for example. 

“Maybe you should be taking a break from relationships,” he says, first thing on a monday morning when Tk shows up at the firehouse with a dark red mark high on his neck. 

“It’s not a relationship,” Tk says, slamming his locker shut on the conversation. Owen doesn't miss the way his son shrugs his hoodie up higher to cover it. 

Like any self-respecting, worried father, there’s not much he knows he can say except for, “Just make sure you’re being safe.” 

The glare he gets is astounding, just like Tk’s mother, and just grumpy enough with morning still dawning that it’s almost adorable. 

He doesn't even think much of the interaction until a week later, when Officer Reyes is standing in the doorway of his son’s hospital room, shifting from foot to foot like he’s about to bolt. 

“Can I come in?” he asks, throat raw. 

Owen couldn't say no if he wanted to, not with how broken up the kid looks. “I’m sure Tk would appreciate it,” he says, instead. The littlest comfort he can offer- a quick hold to the back of Carlos’ neck- has tears springing up in the officer’s eyes. 

All too aware of the way Tk still tenses up around relationship-talk, Owen doesn't mention it to him once he finally graces them with open eyes and his charming smile. 

Then, another week later, Owen comes home from a shift to an empty house. He’s ready to yell up to Tk to ask about dinner when he remembers it’s a Thursday, one of two of Tk’s therapy days. 

There's a certain quietness to the house without his son in it, one that’s almost eerie. It reminds him too much of how life could’ve been had that fateful night in New York ended differently and he’d been left as a family of one. 

Shaking the thought from his head, he tries to busy himself with things around the house, but minutes alone morph into hours that turn into unanswered texts and suddenly life is screeching to a halt. He doesn't know who to call except for Judd. 

“Tk didn't come home,” he says, trying to keep his voice even, professional. 

Judd doesn't hesitate. “I can be over in ten minutes, Boss.” 

They don't find Tk. Owen--vividly-- knows where he could be. Hurt, maybe. Overdosing, even more possibly. Dead. 

“ _If anyone hears from Tk, please let me know._ ” His hands shake as he sends the text to their team. 

From there on out, the night grows darker until the sun starts peaking into the sky. Judd tries to tell him it’s time to call the police, but Owen knows that will just make it more real. He doesn't know if he can do this again. 

Ready to give up, he has his phone in his hand with their local station’s number typed in when the sound of a key hitting the lock comes just as dawn breaks. It’s almost too surreal for Owen to believe. He gets to his feet, trying to tamper the way relief is so ready to crest just in case it’s not his son’s face that greets him. 

It’s almost comical, besides for the way it’s really not, how Tk comes hopping into the house, one shoe on and the other untied as if he hasn't thrown half their team into overdrive for the past ten hours. 

“Dad?” he asks, frozen in the doorway. “Judd?” 

He’s blissfully alive, walking, talking. Owen nearly kills him. But first, he hugs him. “Where the hell were you?” He asks, when he can finally pull himself away. It’s then, up close--not as preoccupied with the short-lived, hard hitting relief--that he notices Tk’s cut lip and bruised face. WIthout his permission, his hands bend and prod his son’s face, trying to inspect the worst of the damage. 

“Who hit you?” He thinks back to Officer Reyes, but immediately turns the idea away. He saw how gentle Carlos was with Tk, brushing his hand through his son’s hair like even just pulling a strand out of place would hurt his already broken body. 

“It was just some guys,” Tk promises, like it’s nothing, like there isn't blood stained into his white shirt. 

“I know people in town, kid,” Judd says, a calm, brewing anger making him rigid, “I can get my guys on it.” 

Tk shakes his head so fast Owen nearly gets whiplash himself. “It was seriously nothing. I went looking for a fight. It was my fault.” 

It makes it even worse. “ _Dammit, Tk_.” Owen wonders when all of this will finally become too much, when his heart will just give in to the skipped beats and anxious rhythm his son causes so frequently.

“I cant feel anything,” Tk promises, like that’s the problem. 

“Why?” Owen presses. “Because you’re high?” 

Tk recoils like he’s been hit. “ _Fuck you. I’m sober_.” It’s not the vote of confidence Owen was hoping it would be. From the corner of his eye, he can see Judd tense but doesn't know if it’s the language or the talk of drugs that are getting to him. 

“Tk,” Owen sighs. He knows they’re getting nowhere. “You’re not in any shape to be having this conversation. Please go upstairs. Sleep, eat, drink some water. When you wake up we need to talk. ” 

It’s a small mercy that his son listens- at least until he gets to the first step and sways dangerously to the right. 

As if predicting the movement, Judd is there in a heartbeat. He steps in, arm around Tk to steady him before Owen can get there. 

“Couch,” he directs, and Judd listens to his Captain like it’s second nature, hauling Tk down to it. 

“Are you dizzy? What’s wrong?” Owen checks his son’s pupils but they’re even. 

“I think I hit my head when I got punched?” It’s a question instead of an answer. 

“Well no shit,” Judd mumbles. 

“Like, on the ground,” Tk says, slow, his eyes unfocused. “When I fell.” 

Owen just barely stops himself from hiding his face in his hands. Sometimes, being a parent is putting every ounce of anger behind you to take care of your son. 

“Judd, can you grab a bag of anything frozen from the freezer?” 

Owen very pointedly waits until he’s out of ear-shot before he cradles Tk’s head in his hands and forces him to look at him. “I need answers.” His desperation isn't becoming, but it’s enough to get Tk to nod, seeming to finally understand the gravity of everything that’s happened tonight. 

“I cant feel anything,” he repeats. 

Owen wants to shake him until something that’s not nothing comes out of his mouth. Maybe then the right words would work themselves out and finally fix whatever broke in Tk all those years ago when Alex first got him into drugs. 

“Tk-”

“No, Dad.” It’s the firmest he’s ever been cut off, and rightly so his mouth snaps shut as he gestures to Tk to go on. 

“I can't feel anything, ever.” It’s the hopelessness, most, in his son’s voice that really makes Owen sit back and listen. “I haven't felt anything since I woke up. It’s all just grey and bland and...” he trails off, as if there aren't even words for the way the world around him has morphed. 

“The drugs,” Owen starts, but his line of thought makes Tk’s eyes harden into something so misunderstood that he can't help but stop talking. 

Tk has always had a way of looking at you that makes you feel like you can really _see_. He has his mother’s eyes and a kind soul, and yet those eyes are tortured in a way that as a father, Owen had hoped he would never have to see. 

“I’m sober,” Tk tells him, gently. “ _This is sober,_ this nothingness around me is how the world feels while i'm sober.” 

“You don't eat,” Owen says. “You don't sleep.” He checks off symptoms in his head, then out loud until Tk’s arms come up to hug himself. He doesn't know what he can do. As a father, as a guardian, or as a Captain, there’s no clear cut solution. His only goal was to keep Tk sober, but now even that’s turning out to not be enough. 

“Officer Reyes?” Ownen asks, clinging to the name as if it were his last hail Mary. 

It might as well be for the way Tk’s lips tik up. “Sometimes with him I feel something, but it doesn't last. I just start thinking about Alex and then about how maybe Carlos is just another person I’m letting myself get addicted to, to fill the gap.” 

It’s wisdom beyond his years. But even with the confession about how Officer Reyes makes him feel, Owen has to know, “Did you see him tonight?” 

This time, Tk does smile. Albeit, embarrassedly. “He arrested me,” he admits. “Someone called the cops when I picked a fight.” 

It’s just another puzzle piece. “And your phone that i left maybe a thousand messages on?” 

“Broken.” Tk pulls it out, smashed and refusing to even turn on. “I had it in my pocket and I landed on it pretty hard when I got hit.” 

Behind them, Judd clears his throat. “I found a bag of frozen peas.” 

“Perfect.” Owen takes them just to gently place them over Tk’s eye. “Can you hold it up?” His son does, but it just puts his split knuckles on display for Judd to cringe at. 

“Let me help,” he offers, and Tk agrees willingly, giving Judd one of his hands to work on. It doesn't take long for the firefighter to make himself comfortable, sitting next to Owen on the coffee table while Tk sinks into the couch across from them. 

The bags under his eyes that Owen is just now acknowledging speak to more than one sleepless night. He’s a mess, through and through. 

“Are you still mad at me?” Tk asks. He sounds small and looks even smaller, huddled in on himself like the world is pressing at his back. 

“I am,” Owen answers honestly, “but I think we both knew something was bound to snap soon. And even if you did go looking for that same rush, I’m really proud of you for staying sober.” 

“At least this doesn't come with withdrawals,” Tk jokes, taking the frozen bag from his eye only to wince at the pain it causes.

“Is it bad?” he asks them, tilting his face towards them and into the light, as if it isn't awful enough for them to see clearly with barely any sunlight poking through the blinds.

“It’s definitely going to be a hell of a bruise for a good while,” Owen says. It’s not going to be a good look for calls, but if Tk’s willing to work through it, Owen will make it happen. 

“Hands should heal up fine in a couple days,” Judd promises too. He carefully helps Tk switch the ice pack to hold in his other hand so he can go on bandaging them. “They’re going to itch like hell though while they heal.” 

“That’s fine,” Tk shrugs. 

“Something to feel,” Owen echoes. 

Tk can only smile sadly. “Something to feel,” he agrees. 

It’s what got them into this mess to begin with, but Owen doesn't know what he could say to fix everything that’s wrong. He’s starting to think there is nothing- no solution or cure or magic fix. Just time. 

“We’ll talk in the morning,” Owen promises his son. They’ll figure something out, even if it’s just pennies towards the problem, anything would be better than what they’re doing now. 

Judd takes their silence as his cue to leave, begging off with only a firm look at both of them as he says to call him if they need anything. On the way out he can't help but shake his hand through Tk’s hair. “Glad you’re okay, kid.” 

Owen doesn't miss his son’s heated cheeks or embarrassed smile. “Thanks, Juddsey.” 

He thinks, maybe, they’ll be just fine with their team at their back.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments feed the writer :)


End file.
